


Imbibe

by Annakie



Series: The Onusverse [7]
Category: Sparks Nevada Marshal on Mars, The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 02:09:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1248793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annakie/pseuds/Annakie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A warm beverage is sometimes the only way to say what doesn't need to be said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imbibe

“Next up, you, the blue gentleman!”

“I regret never having imbibed the beverage designated hot cocoa before this moment!  It is the single most delicious beverage I have ever imbibed.”

“That’s great, all right.”

 

* * * * *

 

So, Croach was back.  Despite the weird grossness of having spent fifteen minutes in Croach’s squishy crawly body, Sparks Nevada was glad of it.  

Even being in the middle of yet another planet-threatening danger, he still had to keep things running.  Croach was gettin’ his hoversaddle and Mercury ready to go while Sparks finished up the paperwork.  Last paperwork of the morning was ordering supplies.

He was drawing up a list for Helfus over at the general store.  As Croach appeared in the doorway of the marshal station and said both of their mounts were ready, he found himself adding one last thing on the grocery list: _Cocoa Mix, Month’s Supply_.

 

* * * * *

 

“C’mon Croach, you gotta drink somethin’ else ‘sides beer once in awhile,” Sparks said, standing up from the kitchen table in Mercy’s starcraft.  Sparks was just waking up, Mercy was still asleep in their bunk.

“Incorrect.  And... I can prove it,” Croach retorted, with his now all-too-familiar smug-and-slurred speech.  He emptied the can he was drinking from with one long chug, crushed it carefully into a compact square with one hand, and tossed it over his shoulder.

Croach already had a small pile of beer cans on the floor, despite Mercy holding a gun to his head last night til he cleaned up the pile he left yesterday. Sparks frowned, and reached to the back of a cabinet.  He’d seen the one thing he thought Croach might also drink there last night.  A few seconds later he’d poured some hot milk, (powdered, but it’d do), and a packet of cocoa - (the same brand he got from Helfus back in town) into the biggest mug he could find in Mercy’s collection.

He slid the mug in front of Croach, who at first dipped an antenna down towards it suspiciously, then picked it up and sipped it uncertainly.

“Ah.  Delicious,” Croach declared after a moment.  “My thanks to you, Sparks Nevada,” he said, then paused before continuing.  “But, I would be under onus to you should you find me some human rum, to improve the taste of this cocoa.”

Sparks sighed, shook his head, took the mugs coffee he’d just poured for himself and Mercy, and left the kitchen.

“Rum is not beer!” he heard Croach call when he was almost back to Mercy’s bedroom.

 

* * * * *

 

“I detect that you once again possess the Marshal Badge, Marshal Nevada.  Welcome back,” the Marshal Station AI intoned, as she opened her doors.  For the first time in over six months, Sparks Nevada walked into the building he knew he shouldn't have ever given up in the first place.

“Well, looks like Techs didn't actually change th’ place that much, Nevada,” The Red Plains Rider drawled as she entered just behind him.

“Naw, just got a few robit accessories to clean up in here, then we can get to work on the town,” Sparks replied.  

“Yep.  I can start taking some of this robit junk outside, if you fix us somethin’ ta eat.  Reckon there’s anything left? Could use somethin’ that ain’t Marjun food for the first time since… well in awhile.”

“Yeah sure, let me see what’s still good.” Sparks replied, walking into the kitchen.  The refrigerator was mostly bare, and the pantry had just a few packets of coffee and--

And a only half-empty box of hot cocoa.  Sparks swallowed hard, and he didn’t rightly know how long he’d been looking at the box when he felt Red’s hand on his shoulder.

“That his?” she asked in his ear, gentler than could remember her sounding in a long while.

“Yeah.  I always drink coffee.  This was for Croach.”  Red slipped his arms around his waist and pressed up against him from behind, her chin on his shoulder, saying nothing.  

“It’s prolly no good by now, should prolly just… throw it out.  Ain’t no one gonna drink it now.”

“Reckon,” Red replied, but didn’t move.

Ten seconds later he reached towards the box, but found himself slapping the cabinet door, slamming it shut hard instead.

 “More important things to do.  Can’t imagine all the paperwork left over.  We’ll clean up in here later,” he said, and shrugged out of her arms.

 She followed him back into the office part of the station.  “Whatever you want, Nevada.”

 

* * * * *

 

“If yer so all-powerful, why don’t you cook us up some dinner with your magic universe powers,” Sparks said.  Red had just rode off with Jim into the plains.  The Barkeep had gone on home to his newly-resurrected Space Saloon.  Kaward, Pemily Stallwark and Chicky Sullivan had been sent right back to Earth by the Barkeep.

 “I no longer possess the Force Galactic,” Croach said.  “All of the cosmic powers I once possessed have been given to the Barkeep.”

 “What about Vishtooloo?  You still got him, or you give him to the Barkeep too?”

 “V’stalu of the Galaxium still shares consciousness with me, Sparks Nevada.”

 “And is he hungry?”

 “My body requires sustenance, yes.  As I am now under onus to you for saving the whole of existence, I will go to the general store and procure goods to prepare for us the human meal designated dinner,” Croach replied.

“Naw, you can’t.  Yer name’s not on the tab no more, what with you bein’ dead and all.  I’ll go. You go tell the Marshal Station Doors I said to give you all your clearance back.  Oh, and go look in the stable.  Had something brought here.  Was thinkin’ about sellin’ it, but never got around to it.”

“My hoversaddle?” Croach asked.  

Sparks nodded, and rocked back on his heels.  

“I… am under onus to you for having my hoversaddle transported.  And for not selling it,” he said.  “I will see you at the Marshal Station, Sparks Nevada.”

“Sure thing, buddy,” Sparks called as he turned to head to the general store.

An hour later they’d eaten, quietly sharing a meal over Sparks’ desk in the Marshal Station like they used to for most lunches, or when they’d just got back from a day on the trail and it was easier to heat up something in the Marshal Station than go get something at the Saloon.

 “Got one more thing, go on out to the front of the station,” Sparks said, taking their plates and heading into the kitchen.

 A minute later, he walked out of the Marshal Station doors.  The sun was just starting to go down, and the porch of the Marshal Station had the best view in town.  Croach was settling into old usual spot, the chair on the right side of the door. Sparks handed him a mug, and took a seat in his favorite chair to the left.  Croach thanked him with onus, and Sparks waved him off as he sipped his own mug of cocoa.  It was too late for coffee and… sometimes a fella just wanted a warm drink anyway.

“I have not imbibed this beverage in a very long time,” Croach said, after several moments of silence between them.  “Even V’stalu of the Galaxium agrees it is most pleasing indeed.”

“Glad you like it buddy,” Sparks said.  “No rum this time, if it’s all the same to you."

“No, Sparks Nevada.  Not ever again.”

Sparks Nevada gazed out at the sun slipping under the horizon and smiled. The day might have started with Red leaving, and he’d watched her ride off a second time just a bit ago, but it was ending pretty all right, anyway.

 

* * * * *

 

Sparks Nevada rubbed his bleary eyes, roused by the smell of frying bacon and fresh coffee.  He heard someone moving around in his kitchen, maybe two someones. With a weary groan, he pushed himself out of bed.

He pulled on his slacks, figured he might as well look half decent, and walked into his own kitchen.  Red was there, along with Croach. Her at the stove, him at the counter.

“Mornin’ Nevada,” Red said, and shot him a smile.  “Figure it’s time I pulled my weight around here, have some breakfast.”

She turned and handed him a plate, and he managed to grunt out a “Thanks” as he sat down at his own kitchen table.  A few seconds later, Croach placed a mug of coffee, just the way he liked it, in front of him.  He shortly set down two more plates from Red and a mug at each before settling into the chair across from Sparks.

Croach tore open a packet of cocoa, a new addition to Sparks’ home cabinets.  He glanced at Croach, who nodded in acknowledgement as he stirred the powder into a creamy liquid.  Croach wasn't much of a talker til after his first cup, either.

Red sat down between them and nodded at Croach in thanks for her own mug.  Sparks breathed in the aroma of his coffee, and began to wake up proper with the first sip.

“Got a big day,” Red said a little while later.  “New President of Earth visitin.”

“Reckon’ we can handle it,” Sparks said. “Reckon’ there ain’t much we can’t handle anymore.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, I don't figure Sparks to be the kind to go for grand gestures. Instead, he does the little things. And the reminder from Mansion that Croach loved hot cocoa and his relationship with certain other beverages and what they did to him gave me the idea for this story. Sparks isn't likely to say he cares that much, but he'll make sure to keep your favorite drink in stock.
> 
> The ending is in hopes that Red continues to ride with the guys for awhile now.
> 
> Thanks as always to Manison for the inspiration, betaing and being all around awesome, as well as chedsy and ahab99.


End file.
